


She

by Jaxon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cokeworth, Gen, HP AU, Hogwarts, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 04:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13092510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaxon/pseuds/Jaxon
Summary: He saw her, one time.  She was with her sister, of course – and both of them put their noses in the air.  He dug his hands into his pockets and gave a soft laugh.  A Muggle and a…Muggle pretending to be a witch.





	She

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: What would Snape's life be like if he'd never met Lily? Heck, what would the series be like if he'd never met Lily?

He’d seen her before – she was one of those Muggle kids who lived across town.  Her dad had a brand new car, and her sister – the same sister who was currently stamping her feet and having a temper tantrum on the platform – sometimes ventured onto the park by the river.

The sister had never bothered to speak to him.  She’d taken one look at his clothes, and his hair, and his awkward poise, and she’d tilted her nose in the air and marched off with an air of superiority before he could say a word.

But today he had the superiority.  They were Muggles.   _Muggles!_ And he was a boy with a pureblood mother.  Mam was looking the best he’d ever seen – she’d even brought her wand with her.  It had been so long since he last caught sight of it, Severus had assumed his da had snapped it in a fit of temper - but the smooth wood was exactly as he remembered, with not a blemish or a crack in sight.  And she was in robes.  Actual robes. He dampened down his grin; he’d never seen her in robes – always in that grubby apron with the frayed pocket, which matched her worn slippers.

She wasn’t the only one in robes.  She’d let him pull his own on once they’d reached the platform, holding her own around him whilst he hurriedly changed out of his hated Muggle garments.  Glorious, tailored, laundered robes.  He looked down proudly, his finger running over the thick material, whilst his other hand held his new wand tightly in his fist.

* * *

He saw her again on the train as he hurried past the compartment. It looked like she’d been crying – hunched up by the window whilst the boys in the carriage shouted and laughed and slapped each other on the back.  He didn’t stop – his arms were full of sweets, and his pockets bulging with the coins from the blond prefect who’d sent him in search of the trolley. Severus counted the packets again in his head; it wouldn’t do to make a mistake on his first day.

He couldn’t have told you what house she was sorted into; he was too busy staring around the Great Hall, his palms sweating as he watched the Sorting Hat, terrified that he wouldn’t make Slytherin after all.  He’d never really thought about his grandparents.  For as long as he could remember, it had always been Mam and Da and Severus – never a sniff of any aunts or uncles or grandparents, but once Mam had let him into the attic, and had allowed him to pore over her books, he’d become obsessed with his ancestors and living up to their lofty expectations.

* * *

School had taken some getting used to.  Severus was a free spirit; used to roaming around and entertaining himself, and structure was something that had been sorely lacking in his childhood.  Slughorn coerced and cajoled, and ultimately, bellowed at the boy – but his words had no effect.  Severus stood a few feet away, as if he was leaving enough room to dodge any blows, and absorbed each rant as if he were listening to the speaking clock.

It was Lucius who had understood what was wrong.  It was Lucius who had escorted him down the corridors, propelling him to the doorway of every classroom.  It was Lucius who had accepted the punishments for being late to his own lessons.  It was Lucius who had explained to him that learning in a school environment wasn’t about doing your own thing, even if you had found something more intriguing in the forest, or in the library.  

Severus liked Lucius.  He sounded like he imagined his grandfather to sound – all booming voice, and clipped tones, and he found himself desperately trying to emulate the older boy, keen to rid himself of his harsh accent.

* * *

Once he’d got used to the routine of Hogwarts, he found life in Cokeworth hard.  It was difficult wandering aimlessly through the days, with nothing to look forward to except the start of the new school term.  He took out Grandfather Prince’s books once more, and read them for the umpteenth time.  He loped around the park, and lay near to the river, but he’d become so used to living with his housemates, he found the lack of company almost unbearable; he couldn’t fathom how he used to wile the days away.  

He saw her, one time, in town.  She was with her sister, of course – and this time, both of them put their noses in the air and strolled past him. He dug his hands into his pockets and gave a soft laugh, pretending that he didn’t care.  And why should he care?  A Muggle and a…Muggle pretending to be a witch.  He huffed another laugh, and when he reached home, he ran up to his room and penned a letter to Lucius.  Lucius understood.  Lucius would get him out of this dump.

* * *

It was a large school, and there were a lot of kids to keep track of. He never saw her again.  Severus kept his head down, and his focus on his schoolwork.  He’d been promised a shot at a Potions Mastery, and fearing heading back to Cokeworth, he spent every waking minute practising his brewing.  

He’d been so preoccupied last Thursday, Slughorn had rapped loudly on the common room door, and reminded him that he was late for Charms. “I’ll have to ask Lucius to come back,” Slughorn laughed loudly, clapping Severus on the shoulder with a warm hammy hand.  “He knew how to keep you in line.”

All roads led back to Lucius.  Severus took his mastery, and ingratiated himself into Lucius’ high society.  He spied, and he lied, and he eavesdropped. He delivered messages, and parcels, and eventually, he heard it:  _the prophecy_.

And, excitement building in his chest, he Disapparated – to spill the tale that would see his fortune.  His reward was the Mark, and acceptance; his rightful place in society sealed.

* * *

He saw her once more.  

This time, she didn’t snub him, and didn’t sneer, or waltz off with her nose in the air.  This time, she stared at him impassively, glassy eyed.  He dropped to a knee, and closed her eyelids.  

Now, as she lay next to her son, it appeared as if she was merely sleeping.


End file.
